'Father!' he shouted loudly.
An upright man with keen blue eyes, a man of about fifty, but whose hair
and moustache were almost white, was in the act of getting to the boat. At
Ken's cry, he started violently, stopped short and stared incredulously in
the direction of the sound.
'Father!' shouted Ken again.
'You, Ken?' The tone was one of utter amazement.
'It's me all right, dad,' Ken answered in a voice which shook a little in
spite of himself.
Before their eyes the other seemed to shake off ten years of age. He
sprang into the boat as lightly as a boy. Three more followed, making
twenty-two in all. Then the blocks creaked, and the boat was rapidly
lowered to the water.
Oars began to ply vigorously, and she shot across the intervening space,
and a minute later was alongside the submarine.
'You must wait there, please, gentlemen,' said Strang courteously. 'I have
to deal with the troops at once. Keep well astern.'
Ken was aching to greet his father, but there was plenty for him to do for
the moment.
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